Shattered Promises
“If that’s true, then why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning?” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt.
“Because I’m not a nice person, Gemma,” he states bluntly. “And I’m sure, after I tell you; you’re going to hate me.”
“And you can live with that?” I choke. “Me, hating you forever?”
“I’m not sure.” He inhales deeply and shuts his eyes. “But I need to get it out of me because I can’t take it anymore.” He opens his eyes and hunts for something in mine. I don’t know what he’s looking for; the truth about my feelings, whether I will hate him, or just how much pain is in me. It doesn’t really matter, though, because nothing is in me, but heartache.
“Tell me.” My voice is like dandelion seeds in the wind, defenseless against the power.
He nods, moves his hand up my back and holds onto me. “The unus quisnam aufero animus is mostly used as a form of punishment, but we weren’t trying to punish you. You were just a little girl and Jocelyn’s daughter. So, Sophia did something a little less severe. She detached your soul from your emotions. Since emotions have such a huge connection with memories, it made it so you couldn’t remember anything about your past.”
An annoying buzzing develops inside my head, like a hive full of bees stabbing at my brain. Alex inspects me attentively, trying to anticipate my next move, but all I can focus on is the buzzing.
“After your soul was detached, you moved to Laramie to live with Marco and Sophia so they could keep you hidden from the Death Walkers,” he continues, putting a hand on my shoulder. “There’s something about the cold that made it difficult to track the star’s energy, but I’m not exactly sure what.” He gives me a shadow of a smile. “Your soul is still in you, though, along with your memories. You just can’t connect with either of them. Or… couldn’t.” He gives me a look that makes my skin hot and fiery, and it isn’t just the electricity. It’s something else—something deep within my core; a wick trying to ignite. Maybe it’s my soul trying to reunite with me. Or maybe it’s just a feeling that will eventually simmer out.
I slow my breathing before I speak. “Why did I start to feel again?”
“No one knows the answer to that.” He shuts his eyes and massages his temples with the tips of his fingers. “And you’ve become immune to Sophia’s gift.”
Breathe. Just breathe. “She tried to do it again?”
He opens his eyes and his pupils shrivel to pin dots. “She tried it a few months ago, after you started showing emotions again. You don’t remember because she did it while you were asleep.”
“You mean she snuck into my room, while I was sleeping?” I sit up, rotate my aching body and kneel up on his lap. “That’s the sickest and most twisted thing I’ve ever heard.”
His fingertips delve into my hipbones as he detains me from getting up. “I doubt that, but yes, it’s kind of twisted.”
I shake my head, put my hands on his shoulders, and push away from him as much as I can. “So what’s your’ brilliant plan now? Keep me locked up here until it’s time for the portal to open?”
There’s an indication of pity in his bright green eyes. “There’s someone else with the same gift as Sophia that’s heading here right now. He’s supposed to be more powerful than Sophia and Stephan seems convinced it’ll work.”
My hand collides with his face and my palm strikes his cheek. His eyes widen. Mine widen. I’m trembling from anger, regret and the deep slashes he’s put in my heart. I have no control over myself anymore, but I never really did. So I let the windstorm take me away as I get to my feet and head toward the hallway.
“You say it like it doesn’t matter, but it does.” I pick up his pocketknife that’s on the table and he jumps to his feet as I flip the blade open.
“Gemma, don’t,” he warns, winding around the couch to get to me.
“Don’t what?” I ask rounding around the table. I stretch my arm out in front of me and put the tip of the blade to my wrist. “Don’t hurt myself or don’t feel the pain? Which one is it, Alex. Which one really matters to you?”
He stops on the other side of the table as I drag the knife down my forearm. My arms and hands shake as blood spills out and streams down my arm. It hurts, but not as much as my heart. “I’m a person. I breathe, I have blood inside me.” My voice trembles as I toss the knife onto the floor. “I’m not just a fucking star!”
He doesn’t utter a word. He just watches the blood drip onto the floor and stain the wood. I suck in a sharp breath as tears drift down my cheeks and then I turn my back on him and storm into the bedroom. I think about jumping out the window. I could run and live and breathe. I could feel whatever I want. Be whatever I want. I could find love and be whole. I could find out what I really want.
But deep down, I know that I can’t. It’s bigger than me and no matter what I do the problem will always be there. It’s either my emotions or the world. So I stay in the room and throw myself on the bed where I cry and cry until I my eyes are dry. Then I lie quietly and let myself bleed.
Chapter 21
“Kiss me,” I whisper beneath the stars. “Please. I need it now.”
“Gemma, I can’t,” Alex says, but I can see his self-control withering. “I want to so bad, but I’ve already done it too much.”
I clutch onto his shoulders, still fixated on the stars. “Please, I want to feel what it’s like just once before it’s gone. I want to know what it’s like to forget for just one second—what it’s like to completely connect with someone.”
He sketches his finger along my collarbone without speaking and I look away from the stars. There’s blackness in his eyes like the darkness in the sky, but within the depths of his pupils there’s a spark that matches the stars.
He leans in and kisses me. Slowly at first, but then as the electricity takes over, his lips and tongue become rougher. He begins to rip my clothes off and I want him to because I want to feel the last part of being human—the most powerful feeling that ever existed.
And maybe this will be the way I finally find it.
***
My eyes shoot open to the bedroom ceiling of the cabin as the feelings of the dream kisses my skin and makes me want to breathe. My cheeks are damp with tears; my neck and wrist ache. There’s a hand on my wrist and a warm body very close to me. I tilt my head to the side and find Alex kneeling on the bed, winding gauze around my self-inflicted injury.
“You know, if you keep it up you’re going to be one big bandage.” He snips the end with a pair of scissors and then chucks them on the nightstand. Then he slides his legs out from underneath him and sits down on the side of the bed. “Gemma, what the fuck were you thinking? You nearly cut your vein open.”
I turn my back to him as I roll onto my side. “I wanted to show you that I’m a real person, that hurts, and bleeds just like any other person. I wanted you to understand that I’m not just a Goddamn star.”
The mattress springs up as he shifts from the bed and I think he’s leaving, but then the mattress concaves as he sits down beside me. “I don’t know what to say to make you feel better and I’m probably the worst person to try, but I’m going to try anyway.” His arm moves over to my side and in his hand is a locket, shaped like a heart. There are floral engravings in the silver, along with a violet stone and carved on the back are the initials “G. L.”
“Those are my initials?” I touch the front of it with my fingertips and a memory flashes in my mind. “What is this?”
“It used to be yours before the Keepers took it away because they were afraid it would… it would resurface your memories.” He pauses and slips his fingers through the chain of the necklace. “Your mom gave it to you.”
I sit up on the bed and face him. There are dark circles under his eyes and my blood is all over his shirt. He looks defeated, a tree with a split trunk about to break apart and fall over. He looks how I feel.
“Why are you showing it to me?” I ask, trailing my fingers up the thin chain until I reach his fingers.
“I have no idea,” he says with mystification. “I just can’t—I don’t have any control over anything when I’m with you and, honestly, I’m sick of fighting it.”
I coil the chain around my finger. “So if I asked you to take me away—save me from the Keepers and let me keep my emotions, would you?”
He forces a lump in his throat down. “I have no idea and I’m begging you not to ask me because, if I say yes, then everything will end and, if I say no, you and I will end. There’s no right answer.”
I want to ask him. I want to know just how much he feels for me because I’m reaching my end and I want to understand everything that I can. I want to feel what I felt in my dream. I need to do everything I can before my time is up. “Can I wear the necklace?”
He nods and then motions for me to turn around. “I’ll put it on you.”
I turn in the bed, tuck my legs under me and sweep my hair to the side. “I have to ask you something.”
He moves up behind me. “Okay…”
I tap my fingers on my knee, unsure why it even matters. “Do you feel bad? And I mean, really feel bad for hurting me; for lying to me?”
His breath feathers against the back of my neck. “Gemma, I can’t… I’m not… We shouldn’t even be talking about this. I was never supposed to tell you.”
My fingers wrap inward and my nails scrape a layer of my skin away. “Fine, please put the necklace on.”
He doesn’t move and I dig my nails in deeper because the physical pain suffocates the emotional hurt. “I made a promise to you once that I would never do anything to hurt you,” he finally speaks. “When we were kids, and I meant it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life.” He pauses and we both take in a breath. “So if you want to know, if I feel bad for breaking my promise and letting you hurt for the last seventeen years, then, yes, I do. It kills me every day.”
I’m not sure how to respond and he doesn’t give me time, clearing his throat as he hooks the chain around my neck. “I can’t quite get it to hook right.”
I bite down on my lip and shut my eyes as I nod. “It looks pretty old.”
Seconds later, his fingers graze my neck. “Well, shit. I guess I was wrong.”
I glance over my shoulder at him and his eyes look a little watery. “Wrong about what?”
“About you being a Foreseer.” He gently touches the back of my neck. “You got your mark.”
I glance around the room for a mirror, but there isn’t one. “Is it a circle, wrapping an ‘S’?”
“How did you know that was the Foreseer’s mark?” he questions.